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my niece is going to have a child. I get on my knees
every night and pray our Heavenly Father that this
unborn child will never know the kind of creature its
father is. I will devote my life to raising this child and
nurturing it just as I have devoted my life to raising my
niece, and I thank our Heavenly Father that it will have
in it some of the blood of General Sam Burnham, for you
cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, as the
saying goes. And I can tell you Percy Munn that you
will never speak to this child, you will never lay eyes on
it, if I can prevent, so long as there is a breath in my
body. So help me God.

" Very r'sp'ly yrs,

"L. BURNHAM."

More and more the room at the hotel became intolerable to
him. He would go to bed and close his eyes, but sleep would
not come. The walls, the ceiling above him, the floor beneath,
seemed to shut him in upon himself, to leave only himself as
real, as only the darkness is real when one shuts his eyes.
The thought of the other rooms up and down the hall, like
this room, and of persons lying within them, sleeping or
sleepless and staring, merely validated his own isolation; and
validated the isolation of those other persons. The carpet of
the room worn by other feet than his, the stained basin into
which other hands had been plunged, the bed that had
creaked and sagged beneath other bodies, all of those items,
and a dozen more, the cold and rigorous and undiff erentiating
mirror, defined his as separate from those other persons as
locked within himself. Sometimes he would get out of the
bed and go to stand at the window to look down, as he had
done that night of the first rally. He would stand at the
window and his gaze would follow the progress under the
pale street-lamps of some unidentified late walker. Once or
twice he felt the impulse to dress and hurry after that un-
known person and walk beside him to his destination. For
that person would have a destination.